An Unexpected Series of Events
by draconianlust
Summary: A fairly simple story; Hermione and Draco are Head Boy and Girl in their seventh year at Hogwarts and a silly boy named Neville stirs up some trouble when he decides he has a crush on Pansy of all people. PG13 for now, but eventually it's gonna get steamy
1. The New Dormitory

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing other than the clothes on my back, the computer that I sit at and a lot of Diet Coke. Please don't sue?

**Thanks:** Thank you so much to whoever reviews this; please, please, _please_ send me as much feedback as you can! The more the better!! I've updated this in the tiniest of ways, fixing the glaring mistakes you guys could pick up. I have two wonderful betas, Angela and Arlene, who I love to pieces. Without them this work would be even worse, so thank your lucky stars I met them! Without further ado, here is the fic. **Chapter One: The New Dormitory**

The third years occupying the compartment made little protest when Draco Malfoy entered, his lanky body framing the doorway. His shockingly blonde hair, which hung limply in front of his face, hid his stony eyes as he lazily scanned the faces of the startled students. Each wore a look of terror, not only because Malfoy was sending waves of fear-inducing indifference towards them, but because they had heard the stories. The Malfoy family was infamous and, now that the Dark Lord had surfaced from his shadowy exile, they were under closer scrutiny; no one forgot where Lucius Malfoy's loyalties dwelled 17 years ago. Draco stepped aside and the younger students slunk away, hunched down as though they expected Malfoy to strike them if they made any sudden movements.

He sat alone in the compartment, feet resting on the seat across from him and the curtains on the doorway drawn. For once he didn't feel compelled to have the two buffoons, Crabbe and Goyle, lurking around making insipid conversation and generally annoying him.

Draco stared down at the inside of his forearm, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. The train still had a few hours before it pulled up to Hogsmeade station, so he was in no hurry to straighten himself, yet. The mid-afternoon light streaming into the compartment caught the translucent sheen off the new mark on his arm.

Lucius made Draco get the mark during the summer, in celebration of becoming Head Boy. At the time, Draco was overcome with the emotions that often came when his father's fleeting approval cropped up. The week before returning to Hogwarts was spent mingling with various Death Eaters at parties his mother insisted on throwing. Draco would have rather stayed in his room the entire week if it weren't for Lucius; Draco had been delirious with the happiness that came with his father's approval. Like a starving animal, Draco hungered for Lucius' praise; often the elder Malfoy paid Draco no heed. Regular beatings would have been better than what Draco endured for his seventeen years: cold-hearted indifference. The same kind he himself now knew how to wield. Lucius' approval came at a high price.

The mark was not clearly visible on Draco's skin; when the sun shone on the patch of skin, the faintest sheen of a green serpentine symbol glowed in return. But in Draco's mind the tattoo would always appear the way it had when he first received it. Swallowing back the depression, Malfoy could still see the mark angry and red, a slight hint of blood along the borders as the mark sunk deeper into his skin. He knew when the time came for him to be called it would become visible; it would blacken his skin and make him fall to his knees. Whether it was from pain or from an invisible force bring him to his knees, he did not know. But the Dark Lord had demonstrated the effectiveness of the mark on a willing Death Eater prior to branding Draco. The emotions the Dark Mark had wrought upon him confused Draco. Wasn't he supposed to be happy? The only thing that he could see in his future was death; perhaps it wasn't such a big surprise to him that he was depressed.

* * *

Hermione paused before she knocked on the door, knowing full well who would be on the other side. _'He's a filthy Death Eater'_, she reminded herself. She knew exactly what had occurred to the Malfoy heir during the summer holidays though it was technically classified information. Another holiday stay at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and a pair of Extendable Ears, courtesy of Fred and George Weasley, granted Hermione access to it. At first, the news hadn't surprised her in the least. Harry had seen Draco's father in the circle with Lord Voldemort two years ago, and although he's kept a low profile ever since, everyone was still aware of his allegiance. Draco receiving the mark only surprised her because he accepted it before graduating from Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't quite certain what she expected to find behind the compartment door. Deciding not to waste any more time in thought, she knocked twice and entered without waiting.

* * *

Draco emerged from his thoughts as Hermione came in finding the boy sitting alone. His grey eyes looked up expectantly, and at the sight of her, had turned hard as he scowled. She was standing in the doorway, goggling at him like a small child at the zoo. Draco was used to the effect he had on girls – and often times grown woman as well – but to get the typical reaction from Granger was still a bit surprising.

"Like what you see, Granger?" He growled.

He watched her swallow hard. "Not bloody likely," she stammered.

Draco smirked. _'Women, they're so predictable, never want to admit they stare.'_

"Y'know, just because you're Head Boy does not give you the right to grant yourself a private compartment."

"Yes well, not everyone has the company of Potty and Weasel to keep them entertained, Granger. Some like a little peace and quiet instead of constant yammering about rescuing puppies and kittens," Draco sneered in return. Who was she to be telling him what he could and couldn't do?

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Did Crabbe and Goyle finally grow brains and realize you're a terrible person?"

Draco carefully avoided the question. He would never admit to Granger that the two idiots were about as interesting as paint drying. "How did a filthy, little Mudblood like you get to become a Head Girl, Granger?"

Pure hatred shone in Hermione's brown eyes and Draco could tell she wasn't going to back down; in all honesty, he hoped she wouldn't. As much as he loathed admitting it, Hermione Granger had a willful spirit and an intellect he both admired and envied. It didn't help matters that she had managed to somehow come out looking beautiful this year. She stood in the doorframe wearing her school robes opened to expose the Hogwarts knee socks, kilt and blouse underneath. Many of the waif-like girls at school looked silly in the uniform, like walking clothes racks, but Hermione was able to fill it out nicely. Draco could see the gentle curve of her hips where she gripped them in annoyance. _'She wouldn't be half-bad looking if it weren't for that sour expression on her face'_ Draco thought sardonically. He couldn't help drawing his gaze down to the exposed skin below the hem of her kilt.

"Not everyone has to buy their way into privilege, Malfoy," she spat back, "some deserve their responsibilities."

His eyes whipped back up to her face. "For your information, Granger, I'm only second to you in our class so I deserve this position as much as you do."

Hermione smiled in return, "Yes and doesn't it just burn you up to know that you're second only to a 'filthy, little Mudblood'?" The smile vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. She turned to leave, "McGonagall wishes to meet with us at the back of the train," she added and left without waiting for a response.

Draco stood fuming in the empty compartment. He wanted to make her suffer for the humiliation of her words. He knew perfectly well that she was the only one to get higher grades than him. Absentmindedly he stroked his forearm; he vowed he would see her eat her words as he headed towards the back of the train. He imagined the pleasure of seeing Hermione Granger in agony at his hands. The image sent a shiver down his spine. _'Fit or not, she's still a Mudblood.'_ In Draco's opinion, there should never be mercy for Muggles.

* * *

'_Get a hold of yourself, you idiot,'_ Hermione thought to herself. To her complete disappointment she found Malfoy devastatingly handsome. Last year she thought Lavender Brown, whom she overheard describing Malfoy to a group of Gryffindor girls, had gone insane. Lavender had a penchant for going a bit overboard with the dramatics and Hermione had to switch seats in the common room when Lavender likened Malfoy to a wild stallion – 'strong and untamed; the kind who'd put up a fight if you tried to mount it, but of course the ride is _always_ worth it with those types, right?' – before she ended up laughing right in poor Lavender's face. Now, albeit begrudgingly, Hermione had, to an extent, agree; Malfoy was a stallion.

She snorted at the image of Malfoy's angular features plastered on the body of a Palomino. _'Well, maybe not a stallion.'_

Hermione waited for ten minutes with Professor McGonagall at the back of the train before Malfoy strolled up casually, munching on an apple. This made neither Hermione nor the deputy headmistress very happy.

Now that she was appointed Head Girl Hermione knew, from previous experience as a Gryffindor Prefect, she would have access to special areas within Hogwarts; still, McGonagall's news shocked, thrilled, and appalled her, so much so, that she didn't know what to say at first.

"What do you mean I have to share a dormitory with her?" Malfoy demanded, throwing a suspicious look at Hermione.

McGonagall scowled, "This is precisely why I wished to speak with you before we get to the school; it's not a secret that neither one of you are particularly fond of each other, but for the sake of your new responsibilities I hope that you can solve this yourselves. You will share a bathroom and a common room, nothing else; you will have separate bedrooms on opposite ends of the dormitory. If you wish to stay in the Slytherin and Gryffindor dormitories I can have that arranged as well," she said and watched the two warily.

Hermione contemplated the options. If she moved to the Head dormitory this year she would have all the privacy she'd need to study for the NEWTS, albeit with an annoying git around every so often. However, if she were in Gryffindor again this year, although she'd be with friends, Harry and Ron would no doubt find a way to get her distracted. The decision seemed simple. Before she could respond, though, Malfoy spoke.

She couldn't contain the look of surprise as he address McGonagall. "You're quite right Professor, but I agree. This privilege is too great to throw away because of petty differences. I have no problems sharing a dormitory with Granger, so long as she doesn't." He sent a sardonic look at her impatient frown.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned to McGonagall and shook her head, "Neither do I, Professor. Thank you for giving us an option."

Professor McGonagall nodded, "Good." She slipped back into the private compartment reserved for Professors, leaving the two glaring at each other.

* * *

The two Heads spent their final opening feast sending glances of disgust toward one another. Neither looked forward to after dinner when they would have to head up to their dormitory. Hermione hugged both Ron and Harry tightly at the foot of the stairs and promised them she would hex Malfoy if "he so-much-as looked at her funny", just like Ron suggested. From behind Harry, Hermione could see Malfoy still sitting at the Slytherin table with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, laughing over something. She was glad she'd be the first one into their rooms.

Hermione was pleased to find a crackling fire in the common room when she entered the Head dormitory. It followed the structure of the Gryffindor house, but the colours where warm chocolates and beiges. _'It figured they'd pick a neutral colour'_, she thought to herself. She made straight for her bedroom where she found her trunk by the foot of her four-poster bed.

After changing into her pajamas, Hermione headed back into the common room and sat down in front of the fire with _Hogwarts, A History_ in hand. No matter how often she read it, Hermione still found it interesting. She was just reaching the chapter entitled _Headmasters Through the Centuries_ when the suit of armour blocking the entrance stepped aside and Malfoy strode in looking tired and slightly disheveled. His robes were unbuttoned, a corner of his shirt had been pulled out of his trousers, and his tie was loosened. Malfoy plopped down unceremoniously onto the chair across from Hermione. She could feel his gaze upon her. _'He's doing this to get on my nerves'_ she surmised angrily, _'and, bloody hell, it's working!'_

"What?" she snapped.

Malfoy shrugged, looking bored. "Is that all you do? Read?"

"Would you like a song and dance number? I'm not here to entertain you, Malfoy," Hermione replied in annoyance. She tried to redirect her attention to the book but –

"That's quite alright, Granger. I don't need your entertainment. I'll be plenty busy with Pansy and the other girls to be concerned with you."

Hermione didn't quite understand what he meant by his remark. "You aren't going to be bringing that sea cow into this dormitory, are you?"

Malfoy laughed brashly, "Well, if you intend on fooling around with Weasel and Scarface, why shouldn't I bring a girl or two when I have the desire to do so? I'm certainly not going to let a good opportunity go to waste."

Hermione's mouth hung open in disbelief. _He didn't mean_ ... _surely he wasn't implying_ ... By the way his eyebrow was cocked and his full lips were spread into a devilish smirk, he certainly _was_ implying that Hermione was sleeping with both Harry and Ron. Instantly, she sprung to her feet, glaring angrily at Malfoy. "I am not sleeping with them!" she sputtered in fury, "and I will not let you turn this dormitory into your own private harem."

"Granger, just because your chastity belt is locked tighter than Gringotts doesn't mean I have to suffer for the sake of your innocence," Malfoy retorted.

"If I catch you sneaking a girl into the dormitory I'll change the password without telling you."

She could tell her threat had angered him. Malfoy got up from his chair and, taking two long steps, closed the distance between them. She didn't expecting him to grab her by the arms, squeezing her biceps until she wanted to cry out. She certainly didn't want him knowing she was afraid of him; her eyes shone defiantly while he clutched tighter and a whimper of pain escaped between gritted teeth.

His face was level with hers now and Hermione could see the fireplace reflected in his eyes, turning them into silver pools. "You wouldn't dare," he seethed.

"Try me," she muttered through clenched teeth.

Hermione hadn't been expecting him to grab her by the arms, but the action caused her stomach to plummet, from both fear and shear excitement. She was surprised to find a small part of her liked how easily she managed to affect him so powerfully. Was she actually enjoying watching him boil? There was no denying that the look of fury on his aquiline features made her want to hide, but it was also ... _'Fun? Am I having fun? I think there's a word for girl's like these ..._' she thought to herself.

"You're a real pricktease, you know that, Granger?"

She could feel the heat rush up to her cheeks. She didn't know what was more embarrassing, what he just called her, or the fact that she was thinking the exact same thing.

"Oh that's rich," she replied impertinently, "coming from a brat prince who's never been on the receiving end of a firm no."

She could feel his hot breath on her cheek as he glared down at her. "Other than you, Mudblood, no one has ever _wanted_ to refuse me."

"Really? Do you ever present the opportunity? Or do you just take what you want and ask questions later?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

His question sent the butterflies ricocheting inside Hermione's stomach. She shot her best look of disgust at him. Malfoy finally released his grip on her arms and she pushed him away from her, gathering up her book and heading to her room. She wanted to snap a witty retort back at him but the only thing that came to mind was her answering in a very wispy voice _'No, Malfoy ... maybe you could ... show me?'_ and then letting him ravish her 'til she was breathless; the idea made her burn even more. She couldn't recall ever wishing being ravished by anyone, least of all Malfoy! Thankfully, the bedroom door was shut and she didn't have to worry about seeing Malfoy's infuriatingly handsome face until morning. _'With luck, maybe he sleeps in,'_ Hermione prayed, climbing into bed.

* * *

She awoke the next morning slowly. The previous night's excitement caused her to toss and turn in bed, mulling over Malfoy's last question as though she actually entertained the thought. The night would have been better spent resting after the long journey to Hogwarts but it simply wasn't in the cards for Hermione. She cursed the sun, which was just starting to peak above the horizon and wished for another three hours in the night. _'I probably would have just wasted those anyway.'_

Crookshanks, sensing her awake, padded over to her from the foot of the bed and prodded her hand with his fat ginger head, she scratched at his ear inattentively. Normally, she enjoyed rising before dawn, but the first night with her fellow Head only made her feel apprehensive about the coming day. If this was how the year was headed, Hermione didn't know what she would do. It was her final year at Hogwarts and she would have to endure nightly taunting by the one person she loathed most. _'Maybe I _should_ hex him,'_ she thought, slipping into her dressing gown. _'Then I would only have to worry about ferret droppings around the common room.'_

Stifling a yawn, she climbed down the stairs, clutching a bath towel and her favourite loofah brush, intent on washing away the memories of last night, along with the grime from the journey to Hogwarts. She was annoyed to find steam coming from underneath the closed bathroom door. _'Who knew brats were early risers?'_ The door swung open before she could knock and a damp Malfoy sauntered out of the bathroom, clutching a towel to his waist and rubbing at his platinum locks with another.

He was whistling a tune she hadn't heard when the door was closed and smiled broadly as he waited for her to step aside to let him pass. Her eyes swung down his exposed chest, broad shoulders enclosed by porcelain white skin.

She watched as tiny beads of slid down his belly and disappeared into the towel he clung at his waist. She couldn't keep the 'Oh my!' from escaping her lips.

Malfoy whispering into her ear, "Like what you see, Granger?" before prodding her to the side and heading for the stairs. The scent of Malfoy hit her as he strode by; it was a woodsy smell, like he had been in the Forbidden Forest right before showering.

"You startled me," she called after him futilely.

She could hear him chortling before he closed his bedroom door. _'Good going, idiot,'_ she thought derisively, _'now he thinks you're mad for him, just like any other girl.' _She berated herself for looking like a ninny. Knowing Malfoy, he would bring it up each chance he could get. She could just see the look on Ron or Harry's face; they'd laugh disbelievingly, but no doubt she would start blushing and she would have to explain herself.

_'How do you explain to a couple of boys it's not you but your body's reaction?'_ She turned on the shower, allowing the bathroom to get steamy before slipping under the curtain of water. _'On second thought, perhaps that won't be so hard. They _are_ teenage boys, after all.'_

Hermione didn't see Malfoy again until their last class of the day. When she came out of the bathroom, he had already left for the Great Hall and she did her best to keep from looking over at the Slytherin table while eating breakfast with Ron and Harry. Professor McGonagall came around with the timetables and her heart sank when upon inspection she found they were to have Herbology with the Slytherins at the end of the day. _'Suppose it's foolish to think I can avoid him all day'_. Harry asked her over his eggs and bacon how her first night in the new dormitory went. She wanted to tell him how Malfoy embarrassed her, but she knew that it would most likely only lead to an unneeded conflict between her best friend and her fellow Head.

* * *

The day past quickly and before she knew it, Hermione was following Ron and Harry down to greenhouse number five where they found Neville already waiting inside, stroking the petals of a blooming flower; the flower purred in return.

"It's a Belladonna," Neville explained to Ron's upturned eyebrow.

"It's purring," Ron said suspiciously - he was a little weary of plants ever since the incident with the Devil's Snare in second year.

"They like physical contact. So long as you're not strangling its stem, the belladonna will purr whenever you touch it." Neville caressed the violet petals one last time before joining the other Gryffindors.

Hermione had already known, having read _Common Herbs, Fungi and Flowers_ a while back, but Ron looked impressed. While they stood in the entrance to the greenhouse, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown – who were inseparable, it seemed – joined the group. They were discussing a dress robe that Parvati's mother had bought her; from the sound of it, Mrs. Patil had committed a major fashion _faux pas_ and Lavender was engrossed in Parvati's story of the robe's dismissal.

There were enough people around, waiting for Professor Sprout to show up, that no one noticed when Harry pulled Hermione to the side. She knew what he wanted to talk about even before he uttered the words.

"Has Malfoy been behaving himself?" Harry asked. "And tell me the truth because – "

"You're dying to hurt him?" She finished sardonically, an eyebrow raised. She was touched by Harry's concern.

"No!" He denied vehemently, but a mischievous smile was scrawled across his handsome face and his eyes twinkled with laughter. His expression turned serious again, "But he is a Death Eater and he hates Muggles. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already threatened you with all sorts of torture if you get in his way."

"Harry, he can't do anything to me here at Hogwarts, no matter how much he wants to. Even his father would think he's daft if he attacked me right under the nose of Dumbledore."

He still looked unconvinced.

"Really, neither you nor Ron should worry," she insisted.

A familiar voice came from behind Hermione's back, "That's right, Potter." Hermione felt Malfoy's arm plop down on her shoulder, pulling her into a half-embrace. "The Mudblood and I are going to be the best of pals. We've got a nice _private_ dormitory all to ourselves." He looked proudly at Harry. "We can even walk around _naked_ if we like."

A wave of heat rushed to Hermione's face. She pushed Malfoy's arm off her shoulder and whipped around to glare into his smirking face. "_You_ can walk around naked if you like, but I sincerely hope you don't; I really don't enjoy being violently ill." She could hear Harry laughing behind her.

"Something tells me you'd enjoy the free show, Granger."

"She's not in any hurry to go blind, Malfoy," Ron now piped up, walking up to Harry's side.

Hermione could feel both boys standing, and the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors, behind her. Malfoy was flanked by his goons, along with Pansy and the other Slytherins. It was a Mexican standoff but the humor of the situation was lost on Hermione. She knew exactly what was about to come from Malfoy – and he didn't disappoint:

"She didn't seem to mind this morning, Weasel."

Ron snorted derisively, "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy."

"Why don't you ask the little Mudblood?"

Hermione could not have been embarrassed. _'Why doesn't Hogwarts have holes to sink into for moments like these?'_ She could feel the eyes of every student waiting outside greenhouse number five on her.

"You caught me by surprise, you creep," she hissed at Malfoy.

Ron, who was near enough to hear what she said, goggled at Hermione. "You saw him _naked_?!"

"No!"

The expression on Malfoy's face proved how much he was enjoying Hermione's discomfort. She determined he had no shame to let everyone think he was walking around their dormitory with nothing on except a smile. The scandalized faces of Ron and Harry were too much for her.

"He was just getting out of the shower –"

"And she tried to break down the door and ravish me," Malfoy finished for her.

Hermione saw Pansy killing herself with laughter, as she doubled over and held onto Millicent Bulstrode for support.

"Oh honestly, Malfoy, just grow up!" She scolded him before striding past the rest of the class – which had by that time gathered around the pair. Professor Sprout, along with the rest of the class, had filed into the greenhouse.

Safely between Ron and Harry, Hermione thought Malfoy would behave himself, but as he walked past them she overheard him talking to Pansy. "Of _course_ I would never lay hands on a filthy Mudblood, Pansy ... it was only a joke."

_"The feeling's mutual,'_ Hermione thought violently as she threw her textbook down on the table, causing the Ron and Harry to jump.

* * *

**A/N:** I want to thank my beta's because they are simply _fabulous_. They've stuck by the rewrites and my silly notes. You ladies know who you are ;) 


	2. A Simple Crush

**Chapter Two: **A Simple Crush

Neville Longbottom sat in the library with a piece of empty parchment in front of him. He was supposed to be writing a two foot essay on the property of Wolfsbane and its effects during lunar cycles for Professor Snape's class, but he was having a hard time keeping his mind on his books in front of him.

His inattention was due to the girl sitting five tables away from him, completely oblivious to Neville's moony gaze. She was tiny; barely even five-foot-four, with hair cut in a smart little bob. Her skin was creamy and pale and Neville longed to just touch her cheek, caress her high cheekbone and feel how warm she was because she certainly looked cold. Right then her face twisted into a small scowl, her eyes poring over a large tome; no doubt, she was probably working on the same essay as Neville.

_'Pansy Parkinson is so beautiful'_, Neville thought. He sighed heavily as though the weight of the world sat squarely on his shoulders.

He didn't know when the attraction first arose, but one day while Neville sat eating breakfast in the Great Hall a notion, which followed him through the rest of the day, came to his head. He was staring off into space and suddenly, Pansy's face came into sharp focus. It was probably because she had just sat down in the place where Neville's eyes had just been, boring a hole into the wall; but the appearance of her had startled him. Of course, being across the room, she didn't even notice Neville's stare nor the jug of milk he had spilled in his surprise. As he mopped up the spill with a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet he happened to look back at Pansy and a thought hit him with the force of a bagel to the head: _'What a cute nose Pansy has.'_

He dismissed it as crazy talk, but the image of her gabbing with a blonde-haired Slytherin girl followed him for the rest of the day like a fly on the back of a horse. During Care of Magical Creatures, while the Slytherins got their turn feeding a handful of giant spiders that had emerged from the forest, Neville stared long and hard at Pansy. His face grew warm as he realized why he was so interested in the girl. Normally, he hated all Slytherins. Nothing good ever came from an encounter with a Slytherin, but Pansy was just so pretty. _'I have a crush,'_ he thought glumly, _'on a girl who hates me.'_

This was why, sitting at the table in the library with his parchment and books collecting dust, Neville sighed again, this time even more heavily.

* * *

Walking back to the Gryffindor dormitory, Neville bumped into a haggard looking Hermione. Both dropped the books they were carrying and, after a moment's pause due to surprise, laughed sheepishly. 

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Neville said, gathering up his parchments.

"That's alright, Neville. It was my fault too." She handed him his book.

Gathering and collecting himself, he looked sympathetically at her pile. "I guess you've got loads of work already too, huh?"

She laughed, "Yeah, Professor Vector set us up with a five foot essay. I don't know how I'm ever going to get that done."

"When is it due?"

"Next month."

Neville grinned knowingly; Hermione was notorious for starting early and _still_ managing to worry her pants off about assignments. "I think you'll be fine," he predicted.

They said their goodbyes and headed towards their dormitories. Neville envied Hermione, for she had a private dormitory all to herself. True, she had to share it with one person – who Neville would _never_ want to share so much as a bench with – but at least she didn't have to worry about pesky first years. _'Honestly, they're like flies this year'_ Neville complained.

As he climbed through the portrait hole he could see a large group of first years involved in a loud game of Exploding Snap. Ron and Harry were sitting glumly at a table, no doubt trying to work on their essays.

As Neville approached them, he noticed Ron muttering something to Harry, "… just one, let me hex one of them and the rest of them will follow, Harry. They're like sheep."

Obviously, they weren't getting much work done either.

Instead of joining them, Neville said goodnight and headed for his bed. He surmised the weekend was not going to be fun, and dropped his books. However, something caught his eye as he pulled his sweater over his head. One of the parchments wasn't his. _'Must have grabbed Hermione's by accident,'_ he thought, and he picked it up from the floor to read it.

It was filled with notes from today's Potions class. Hermione's writing was messy and Neville could barely read some of it. _'No wonder she works so hard,'_ he chuckled, _'she has to copy everything twice just to understand it later.'_

The bottom had caught Neville's interest, something he forgot Snape had mentioned during the class; however, Hermione, being a total perfectionist, had managed to catch it.

_"The potency of dragon berries are quite strong, however when used in potions the effects are diluted. Many love potions contain dragon berries because this is the most effective ingredient to a love potion. If they are eaten simply off the bush, they cause the same effect, although heightened to a great degree."_

Suddenly Neville grew excited. He didn't know why the thought of a love potion had never occurred to him. It seemed like the perfect solution to his predicament. He knew if he simply left it to luck, he'd be waiting until the cows came home for Pansy to notice him; he would be left a lonely man. But if he used a love potion maybe, just maybe, he stood a chance. _'It's worth a try,'_ he decided. And with a goofy grin plastered on his face, he crawled into bed. _'What's the worst that could happen? She barely knows I exist now. At least then she would know my name.'_ He decided that tomorrow he would go to the library the first chance he got and research on love potions.

* * *

Draco's eyes followed Hermione as she, with books and parchment in hand, crossed the common room and exited the dormitory. She hadn't mentioned where she was going, but Draco knew she was headed for the library. All week she had been leaving at the same time, 6:45 pm, right after dinner. She was obviously still upset with him after being embarrassed in Herbology or else she would have at least tried to endure studying with him in the same room.

Draco would have enjoyed the peace and quiet if it weren't for the icy stares she sent him each time he came to her with a problem they both needed to solve; like the upcoming Prefects' meeting they were to organize. On the other hand, her threat had in no way affected him at all. In fact, as the suit of armor settled back in front of the doorway, Draco sprang to his feet, threw his book down onto the couch and headed towards the door.

He prodded the suit in just the right place – left hip – and it jumped to the side. He peered into the empty hall and saw Hermione's robes swirl around a corner.

"Psst!"

Draco's head whipped around. On the other end of the hall Phyllis Tickle stood, still in her kilt and blouse, grinning at him from behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered. He smiled back, and indicated with his head for her to come over. Phyllis was the third girl Draco had brought to his room since his argument with Hermione. She was a fifth year Ravenclaw with a well-developed chest and a penchant for wearing a lot of pink lip gloss. Draco liked her name; and hoped she would live up to it.

He grabbed her by the hand as soon as she was close enough and pulled her through the door.

"We've got about two hours," he said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Phyllis giggled affectionately, licking her highly glossed lips. Draco could nearly see his reflection in them. "Will that be enough time?" She asked, her voice throaty.

He chuckled, "That's plenty of time," before covering her mouth with his.

* * *

Hermione cursed herself for having forgotten her favourite quill. She never liked studying without it. She looked down at her watch. It was only half past seven, but she was exhausted. The thought of studying in the library for the third night in a row wasn't pleasant, but she had gathered her things and gone nonetheless. Being in the same room with Malfoy was annoying. He didn't even have to say anything and Hermione got angry. She simply had to remember the look of disgust Ron wore as he pictured her ogling Malfoy. That was the reason why she wasn't using the nice, comfortable common room in her own dormitory to rewrite her notes and work on Professor Vector's essay.

_'Tonight is not the night,'_ she sighed and decided to call it a quits, vowing to work an extra hour or two the following night.

She was deep in thought, wondering how to structure Vector's essay, when she bumped into someone. As her books flew out of her hand she saw Neville fall over. They both laughed at the incident and said goodnight. Before leaving the library, Hermione had seen Neville sitting at a table by himself, books open, but his gaze fixed rather dreamily on Pansy Parkinson. Hermione worried if Neville had developed a crush on the harsh Slytherin girl but laughed at the absurdity of the prospect.

'_He's got more brains than that.'_

She decided to talk to Neville about it, just in case he _had_ gone and fallen for her. Hermione knew Pansy was what the boys all called 'a looker', but the term 'village bicycle' had also been thrown into conversations surrounding Pansy. Hermione knew Neville deserved better than the throw-aways of at least half the boys in years six and seven.

Hermione was still deep in thought when she got back to her dormitory. She mumbled the password to the suit of armor – "_Butterbeer._" – and headed towards her room. She noticed Malfoy was no longer sitting in the common room reading. _'Does that boy _ever_ do any schoolwork?'_ she irritatingly wondered. Deciding she didn't care, she threw on her dressing gown, and headed to the bathroom, intent on taking a long bubble bath. Before leaving her room she grabbed her wand out of her school robes; she didn't think Malfoy would try anything funny but, there was no harm in being prepared.

When she reached the bathroom, she soon realized that the door was locked. _'I guess he didn't go to bed after all,'_ she grumbled to herself.

She knocked loudly. "Are you going to be long?" she called.

Hermione was startled to hear a high pitched giggle emerge behind the locked door.

"Um, yeah!" Malfoy called back, his distraction obvious by his tone. "I'm taking a bath, Granger. Sod off!"

Hermione was outraged at his dismissal. "Excuse me? Did you just - Don't tell me to sod off, Malfoy!"

She was surprised when the door opened a crack and Malfoy's soggy hair peeked out. Hermione knew instantly he was hiding something, and it most likely belonged to that insipid giggle she heard. Normally he would have thrown the door open; especially if he _were_ naked; just to see her reaction. After all, that's how Malfoy seemed to be enjoying himself these days.

"I said," Malfoy started, smirking at her angry scowl, "I'm taking a bath, Mudblood. Unless you want to hop in and join me, beat it."

He shut the door before Hermione could reply. Inside she could hear a soft voice ask who was at the door.

"A broom salesman, love," Hermione heard him reply, water splashing around as he got back into the large tub. "I told him we didn't want any."

She sat down on the couch in a huff, entirely appalled and infuriated at Malfoy for having a girl in their bathtub. She made a mental note to scrub the tub twice before ever getting back into it. She was torn between waiting there for Malfoy and the strumpet to emerge out of the bathroom in order to rail at them, or, admit defeat and go to bed, vowing to forget she ever heard anything. Her moral indignation kept her rooted to the couch.

To Hermione's horror, Malfoy came out of the washroom – thankfully, wearing clothing this time – looking damp and tired, with Phyllis Tickle, a vacuous blonde from fifth year Ravenclaw, who skipped out behind him. She giggled nervously as she spotted Hermione sitting on the couch, still in her bathrobe, sending a death glare their way. Malfoy was unperturbed by Hermione, but Phyllis' eyes kept darting towards the brunette who watched Malfoy pull his date by the hand towards the entrance to the dormitory. _'I guess one night stands aren't always reserved for a full night,'_ Hermione thought angrily. She grimaced as Phyllis gushed over Malfoy, who was looking down at her with a bored expression on his face. She was playing with his shirt which was half undone, exposing his pale skin underneath. Obviously, she was looking for at least one more kiss before being pushed out the door.

_'Oh just hurry it up and get it over with,'_ Hermione wanted to snap.

"That was lovely, Draco," Phyllis said loudly glancing furtively at Hermione.

He answered with a grunt, nodding his head. Hermione noticed he wasn't even touching her; his hands were on his hips while Phyllis was standing in front of him, her damp blonde hair falling in waves on her shoulders and her hands at his waist. She stood on one foot, like a great blonde flamingo, while the other foot played nervously with the back of her knee.

As she watched the stupid girl throwing herself at Malfoy like some kind of lemming an idea came to Hermione. With as little movement as possible, Hermione subtly pulled her wand out from her pocket. _'This would teach him for being such a smarmy bastard'_, she thought as she sent a hex across the room.

Phyllis didn't even flinch as it hit her.

It was plain to see Malfoy had no intention of kissing her, and after a moment, Phyllis figured that out as well. She glumly turned towards the doorway. "Well, goodnight," she muttered halfheartedly before leaving.

Hermione watched Malfoy turn, a grin on his face. No longer angry, Hermione smiled back at him before rising and heading to the bathroom. The smirk then slipped off of his face.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked her retreating form suspiciously.

When she reached the door to the bathroom, she turned and shrugged innocently, "Oh, nothing really," she replied. Hermione shut the door and called out to him, "I just really like Phyllis. She's a nice girl, Malfoy."

She wished she could see his expression, perhaps a look of bewilderment on Malfoy's face would be worth the aftermath her little spell would cause the next day.


	3. Violet is a Lovey Shade of Purple

Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me. If wishes were fishes, y'know?

* * *

**Chapter Three:** Violet is a Lovely Shade of Purple 

When Hermione awoke the next morning it seemed as though the heavens had opened up and the chorus of angels was singing to her. Even while brushing her teeth she could barely suppress the grin that kept erupting, sending toothpaste dribbling down her chin. She skipped down to the Great Hall, settled down beside the kippers and waited.

Five minutes later, a brown owl brought her the morning paper which she buried herself in. It was still fairly early; there were barely a handful of people at each table, she knew she would have a bit of wait before anything really happened.

Hermione was looking over the _Prophet_ for what seemed like the tenth time when Malfoy strolled in also looking refreshed and chipper. It seemed to Hermione that her strange change of character the night before hadn't perturbed him _that_ much. Over her paper Hermione spied the blonde-haired debaucher sit down beside Pansy.

Ron trudged into the Hall, followed closely by Harry, who looked nor more awake than Ron did. Hermione couldn't help containing her excitement as she greeted them with a hearty "good morning".

"What's so good about it?" Ron grumbled, loading his plate with a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, stifling a yawn as he sat down on the other side of Hermione. "Hagrid still wants the class to meet Aragog."

"He's positively nutters, that one," Ron exclaimed. "There's no way you'll get me into that Forest. D'you remember the last time we had a chat with that, that _monster_?"

Harry nodded grimly. Hermione hadn't been there when Harry and Ron had encountered Aragog, but she was fairly certain it would have traumatized her too, even if she wasn't afraid of spiders. While Hermione sat chatting with Ron and Harry she kept a watchful eye out for Phyllis, who was bound to come into the Great Hall at any moment.

Soon enough, Hermione spotted the blonde head, barely distinguishable from the three other girls, who were just as heavily made up as Phyllis; it seemed to Hermione that glamour traveled in packs.

To Hermione's great pleasure, Phyllis and her gaggle of girlfriends sat down almost right in front of her, giving her a perfect view of Phyllis' delicate back. _'This is almost too easy,'_ Hermione thought to herself.

Her wand hand itched to finish the hex she started last night, but she wasn't quite ready, yet. There was one more thing she needed before she could complete it: Malfoy's attention. At that moment Pansy was stroking the boy's arm as though he were an obedient puppy dog. Malfoy looked like _he_ wanted to send some hexes flying himself. Although he probably adored the attention, the way Pansy had chosen to use his arm as a doorbell ringer probably had begun to grate on his nerves.

'_What a self-serving, vile excuse for a boy!'_ Hermione couldn't help thinking as she watched Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. She was sick of waiting. Patient was her middle name all morning and now the opportunity was there, staring right at her. Neither Ron nor Harry had even noticed she'd stopped paying attention to their conversation; they simply continued on, yammering away about the state of Hagrid's mental health.

Hermione slipped her wand from her pocket, as subtly as possible, underneath the table. With a steady hand she pointed it at Phyllis' slender back.

"- and then he's got the nerve to bring out those hideous beasts!" said Ron, eyebrows reaching to the rafters. "Dumbledore must _really_ like ..."

Hermione sent the hex sailing through the crack in between the table and bench, across the footpath flanked by the Gryffindor table and Ravenclaw table, right into Phyllis' back.

Casually, Hermione turned back towards Ron, who was now taking a long draught of pumpkin juice; no doubt he was parched from his long tirade.

"Leave Hagrid alone," Hermione admonished the two boys, "the creatures he brings to class may be peculiar but they'll serve as great stories later in life, I suspect. Plus, every now and then they come in handy, don't they? Like Buckbeak, or the thestrals."

Ron and Harry both nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Still, I wish he just kept the spiders –"

Ron had no time to finish his sentence; something at the next table over caught his attention. Midge Smith, one of Phyllis' companions, let out a frightened shriek and began pointing at Phyllis like she had the plague.

"Phyllis, l-look at your fingers!"

Hermione fixed her expression into what she hoped was a polite look of bewilderment, but she knew Phyllis was in the process of turning a very shocking shade of indigo right in front of the entire school. From Hermione's vantage point, she saw Phyllis frantically scrubbing at her forearms.

Her friends were no help; they sat staring at the blonde in complete, utter astonishment. Phyllis let out a loud howl in desperation. She rose violently and looked around, as though the answer to her sudden skin discoloration was hidden somewhere in the Great Hall.

Ron let out a low whistle and Hermione turned to see amazement written across his features. "I hope that's not in the pumpkin juice," he said.

Harry was trying to stifle a chuckle. It was a peculiar sight to behold; the normally well-groomed girl had just become a walking, wailing blueberry. The Hall, which was by then, filled with hungry students, echoed with the angry buzz of at least a thousand voices whispering to each other, pointing their fingers at Phyllis.

"What's that on her forehead?" Harry asked, squinting to read what had appeared on Phyllis' brow. He gasped, hunching down to laugh into his robes. "It says 'slut' right across her face," he hissed to Ron and Hermione.

Hermione's mouth hung open, hoping her look of incredulity was genuine. A tiny pang of guilt hit her as she watched Midge scrounge around her purse for a mirror, finally showing it to Phyllis who promptly burst into tears. Through her angry sniffles and the buzz of everyone talking at once, Hermione heard Phyllis spit out one word: "Malfoy!"

The Head Boy had been staring at the entire scene with a look of genuine shock carved onto his face. Hermione watched him swallow nervously as the plum-coloured girl marched up to him, called him a number of unmentionable names and slapped him hard enough to leave an angry, red mark across his left cheek; Phyllis then ran from the Great Hall, sobbing and clutching at her prune-coloured face.

Ron, Harry and Hermione sat in stunned silence, as the Great Hall rang with the numerous voices of students recounting what had just transpired. The rumor-mongering was just beginning and by the end of the day would culminate in wild and fanciful tales of what _may_ _have_ happened. The twinge of guilt in the pit of Hermione's stomach returned; perhaps it wasn't such a nice thing to have done to Phyllis. _'Of course it wasn't, you silly twit,'_ a sad, tiny voice issued from within. The girl had never truly done anything to hurt her in any way; she just happened to be the handiest tool Hermione had at the time.

"Violet really is a lovely shade of purple, you know," Ron finally spoke up.

That sent the three into peals of laughter as they picked up their bookbags and headed off to the first class of the day. At the doorway, Hermione turned to look back at Malfoy, who looked dazed but no longer had Pansy hanging onto him. She moved down to the other end of the table, finding the attention of Blaise Zabini more interesting. Blaise looked proud, as though he had won a small battle.

To Hermione's surprise, Malfoy's gaze met her own; it was as if he had felt her eyes on him. His tense face grimaced into a scowl; Hermione couldn't help but shiver. Something told her she had just given herself away to the one person she shouldn't have.

Turning to catch up to the two boys, Hermione deeply sighed. _'That was a nasty thing I did. If karma truly exists, then I'll really be in for it.'_

* * *

By dinner time, the pebble of guilt inside Hermione's stomach had somehow been charmed into a very large boulder. Whenever she heard someone whispering about the morning's excitement, she scolded offenders, taking a point from each one. However, it wasn't just her prank that put Hermione on edge.

At lunchtime, Ron and Harry were the only ones to sit near her, for many students were afraid of being verbally bawled out by the Head Girl. They ate in heavy silence; Ron and Harry were completely flummoxed by Hermione's displeasure.

To make matters worse, Malfoy managed to corner her soon after the event. She was on her way to the bathroom on the third floor, when he appeared from behind the large statue of Ian the Incorrigible.

Malfoy yelled to a pair of third years behind Hermione, "This hallway is closed. Go around."

The ferocity in the Head Boy's voice was enough to send the girls fleeing without question. Hermione tried to turn and scurry away with the two girls, but Malfoy was too quick for her; he grabbed her large book bag and pulled her against a wall. Alarmed at his aggressiveness, Hermione let out a startled squeak. Her hand immediately went to her pocket to retrieve her wand, but Malfoy was too quick; he pressed his wand against her chin, forcing her head up so she could look him in the eye

"M-Malfoy, what are you doing?" She asked innocently.

He growled back, "You know exactly what I'm doing, you disgusting Mudblood. You did that ... _thing_ to Patricia."

Her eyes darted from side to side; unfortunately, there was no one else in the hallway. _'No one to save me,'_ she thought frantically. The thought surprised her. She had always thought she was too headstrong to _need_ rescuing, however, now she was at the mercy of Malfoy's anger and it angered her royally that she was acting like a meek, little mouse.

"Her name is Phyllis, you insensitive clod," Hermione intoned acidly. She grabbed his wand hand and pushed it away. "I didn't do anything to her. You obviously did that to the poor girl because you're a heartless bastard looking for a cheap laugh, but it backfired on you and now everyone knows that you're a filthy pig who sleeps with anything that breathes."

As a result Malfoy grew angrier, he pinned her to the wall with both hands, his jaw hardened, which struggled to contain his wrath. A sudden image of him taking that anger out on her froze and terrified Hermione. _'He wouldn't really hit me ... would he?' _She couldn't be certain anymore.

"Me? Filthy?" He let out a bitter laugh that drew goosebumps along Hermione's skin. "I was born into a Trueblood family that can be traced back as far as the Dark Ages. I wouldn't sleep with _just_ anything. That's something a common dirt-born like you would do. It's the only way you can keep your repulsive heredity going and if I had it my way you wouldn't be allowed to. You say I sleep with anything that breathes? Please, Granger, I'm not common guttertrash. Phyllis is a Pureblood, a stupid Pureblood, but a Pureblood nonetheless."

Hermione glared back, "It doesn't matter whether she's a Pureblood or Muggle-born. What matters is that you _used_ her."

He cocked an eyebrow. Obviously, from the look he gave her, Malfoy had never heard of the term before. "She came-on to me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes at his senselessness. "That doesn't excuse you from using her."

His hold on Hermione's shoulders had loosened and he no longer looked as furious. His expression was one of confusion. _'Perhaps his conscience is kicking in,'_ Hermione though derisively.

"I _didn't_ use her," he growled back. He ran a hand threw his hair in frustration. "Your little stunt this morning –"

Before she could deny it again, he stopped her, "- Because I _know_ you did it, I won't be getting any come-on's from anyone for a long time. It's entirely your fault and I intend to make you pay for your mistake."

Despite the pain in the shoulder from Malfoy's grip, Hermione smirked.

'_I'll be lucky to survive this week without bruises.'_

"That's a damn shame, Malfoy. I suppose it'll just be you and your best friend from now on."

He cocked his head to the side.

"My best friend?"

"You're right-handed, aren't you? Remind me not to borrow a quill for the next couple of weeks." She laughed belligerently. "God knows if you wash it after wanking off."

The cold malice rolled off him like waves. He squeezed even tighter, daring her to scream. They glared at each other, neither one saying a word. The pounding of her heartbeat drowned out any other sounds in the empty hallway. His face was inches from hers as though he was studying her closely like a painting, but she knew he was only trying to intimidate her by invading her personal space. She loathed admitting that his tactic was working.

"Perhaps you're interested in finding out?"

'_He must really be sex-starved to be offering.'_

"I wouldn't touch your prick with somebody else's hand, Malfoy," she bit out.

A sharp bark of bitter mirth erupted from him, and his face quickly transformed back into his normal sneer. "I wasn't suggesting you join me, Mudblood. I wouldn't be able to wash the stink off me for weeks if I sunk that low."

The jab at her lineage was to be expected, but Hermione couldn't fight back the first angry tears; no matter how much she prepared for them, the common Malfoy jeers always made her feel like she'd come too close to the fire.

Swallowing back the solid lump of hatred, she asked, "Then what _were_ you suggesting." She wasn't going to let him get away without answering. It certainly _sounded_ like he was making a pass at her.

"It's obvious that you have a pathetic, little crush on me," he replied witheringly. "I was only trying to get your hopes up to crush them, of course."

Hermione couldn't stop the look of astonished hurt from escaping.

"I do _not_ have a crush on you!" She cried out shrilly. "I find you absolutely disgusting and –" she wrenched his hand away, stumbling forwards from the wall and past him "- I truly hope you die a gruesome and particularly painful death while serving as ... your father's lapdog."

She had almost said Voldemort, Hermione thanked Merlin she hadn't.

Hermione ran from the hallway as fast as she could, not stopping until she reached the door to her next class. She stood alone in the hallway, doubled over as she tried to catch her breath. With ten minutes left in the lunch-hour, she was the only one waiting for the bell. Milling students occasionally gave her a funny look as they walked by, but no one stopped to question her.

Malfoy's accusation infuriated her; far from being true, Hermione only saw him as a cocky troll whose purpose in life was causing misery and getting laid. Why would she ever be attracted to something like that? She didn't have enough energy in the day to loathe Malfoy, let alone to actually detest _and_ harbor secret desires for him simultaneously.

She would explode from the emotional turmoil, before coming to terms with her feelings.

'_Thank Merlin I _don't_ like him, in that case,'_ she thought, purposely checking her book bag for the one thing that could help ease her frayed nerves.

What she found sent her stomach flying into her throat, which far from soothed her. Her journal was no longer in her book bag. She searched through the heavy tomes and scrolls of parchment within the bag, but could not find the familiar little, burgundy journal. It was missing.

Dropping her bag, Hermione searched the ground, hoping she had dropped it while she was fleeing from Malfoy, but the hallway was empty apart from a few dust bunnies and the occasional crumpled piece of parchment. She grabbed her bag and began running back to the hallway where Malfoy cornered her, scanning the ground for any sign of it. When she reached her destination she found it as empty as it had been before; not a single object lay on the ground.

Her mind reeled with the frantic desire to retrieve her little book. She ran down the hall, in search of Malfoy, hoping very much so that he wasn't the one who found it.

As she scurried down the main stairwell towards the Entrance Hall, she could hear his voice ringing loudly throughout the Hall. To her horror, the worst had occurred; he _had_ found it, and at that moment, he was regaling a large group of Slytherins with the contents of her journal.

Students who were filtering out of the Great Hall towards their afternoon classes turned to her as she bellowed his name savagely, running towards him as fast as she could. He was in the middle of ten Slytherins, all – by the looks of it – wildly amused by his excerpts.

"Oh look, here she comes now," Malfoy announced to the others, grinning wickedly as he looked up from her journal. "Tell us, Granger, is Viktor Krum _really_ that terrible of a kisser?"

Peals of laughter surrounded the mortified Head Girl, but the only person she could see was Malfoy and she desperately wanted to rip that smug expression right off his face and throw it across the Entrance Hall.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the group of Slytherins.

"_Accio journal!_" she cried out, holding out her other hand to catch the flying book.

Except Malfoy was clutching it so hard, the force of the spell pulled him along with the journal and he barreled into Hermione, knocking her down and landing right on top of her. The collision surprised both of them and neither knew exactly what to do until the sound of laughing students brought them back to reality. Malfoy assumed his natural sneer of disgust, throwing himself off her as though he were lying in dirt.

Hermione grabbed her journal from his hand while he brushed himself off.

"How _dare_ you?" she shrieked into his face, brandishing the journal like a weapon. "This is my private journal. You have no right –"

"– to mess with your privacy?" Malfoy cut in, "Just like you have no right to mess with mine, right?"

Swallowing the retort, Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Fair enough," she snarled.

"What is going on here, Mr. Malfoy?" a cool voice came from behind Hermione, causing her to turn.

It was Professor Snape, sidling up to the group of students. He paid no attention to Hermione, which infuriated her even more.

Malfoy smiled up at the Potions Master indulgingly.

"The Head Girl and I thought we'd entertain the students, Professor. A little song-and-dance number -" Malfoy's eyes flickered to Hermione's face "- before class."

Snape gave Malfoy a calculating look over Hermione's head. "I hardly think that is appropriate, Mr. Malfoy. Kindly disperse the crowd and head to your next class, please."

He turned to leave before, yet whipped around once more to add, "5 points from Gryffindor for causing a disturbance, Miss Granger."

Hermione's jaw dropped at his audacity. She was about to argue when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. She turned to find Ginny Weasley giving her a sympathetic look.

"You know it won't do any good, Hermione," she said. The Head Girl nodded numbly, she couldn't believe how openly biased Snape could be.

"Hermione, what happened?" Harry came bounding down the stairs carrying his bookbag. "Why's everyone out here?"

She let out a bitter laugh. "You just missed Malfoy publicly reading an excerpt from my journal."

Hermione's heart swelled as Harry's expression darkened in anger. No matter what Malfoy did to hurt her, Harry's support always made it feel a bit better. Hermione held him back as he ranted on about the indignity of the stunt and prepared to walk over and beat the snot out of him; knowing her current streak of luck, Snape would still be lurking around and he'd be right there to witness Harry's mad attack on Malfoy.

"Just leave it be, Harry," Hermione said wearily. "It's not worth the effort."

"He deserves pain, Hermione," Harry said.

"Just forget it," she replied, more forcefully and grabbed him by the arm. "Let's get to class. I left my bookbag by the door."

They said goodbye to Ginny and headed back up the stairs towards Professor Binns' History of Magic class.

"How did he get a hold of your journal?"

Hermione shrugged at the question, "We were discussing something in the hallway and I dropped it when I left for my class."

Still looking slightly perturbed, Harry nodded. The feeble excuse seemed enough, though and he asked no more questions.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked him quickly, wishing to change the subject and wishing for a really strong memory charm to make her forget the entire day thus far.

"He's uh ..." Hermione could feel his discomfort already. "Well, y'know ..."

She tsked, annoyed at his hesitance.

"With Hannah?"

Harry gulped and nodded slightly, a feeble smile spread across his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his reaction. She was perfectly fine with Ron going out with Hannah Abbot. In fact, It didn't affect her in the slightest that he was with her. No matter how many times she told Harry this, he still seemed uncomfortable telling her that Ron was with his girlfriend and it wasn't her.

Sixth year with Ron was fun, Hermione had to admit. He was her first "official" boyfriend, and it was a natural progression that she loved, but their friendship outgrew the romance; both knew they were better off as best friends than lovers and for the sake of their friendship they ended their romance.

Harry, caught in the middle, knew either too little in an effort to distance himself from their romance, or believed that they still carried a torch for each other; therefore, any discussion revolving around _another girl_ or _another boy_ around either one caused him to squirm.

It left Hermione feeling exasperated.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," she started, "it's been three months, Harry. Please don't worry about us."

He smiled sheepishly behind his round glasses, a slight tinge of embarrassment coming to his cheeks.

Hermione was about to further scold him when Ron came rushing up with Hannah in tow. He was out of breath, from the looks of it having run up several flights of stairs.

"'Mione ... I just heard ... Malfoy ... kill ... prat!"

These were the only words Hermione could decipher from in between his gasps of breath. She peered at him in amusement as he rested his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath.

Hannah, who had been a few paces behind him, was only slightly winded. She filled in what Ron managed to miss.

"We just heard, Hermione," she said sympathetically, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from her brow. "Malfoy's a real prat for reading your journal in front of everyone."

A wave of anger rushed through Hermione's head, but she managed to force out a tight smile.

"Thanks Hannah, Ron. I'll deal with him when I get the chance. I'm just glad he didn't read a lot of it," she replied, grateful to have such caring friends.

Ron, having finally righted himself, scowled.

"Just give me five minutes with him and I'll straighten him out for the entire year, I promise you that."

Harry nodded in agreement. "He deserves a good beating, that one," he added.

"Watch what you're saying," Hermione said playfully, "I am a Head Girl after all. I'm just itching to dole out some punishments."

"Even on Prefects?" Ron asked, a grin spreading out across his face as he pointed to his badge.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, as in '_why of course!'_

The door to the classroom swung open, and the class filed in. Ron and Hannah kissed goodbye and he followed Hermione and Harry to the back of the classroom where they always sat.

"Seriously though, you _are_ going to make him pay for that, aren't you?" Ron whispered to Hermione across Harry's desk.

She shrugged casually, arranging her quill and parchment on her desk. "I might," she mumbled.

She looked up to see her two best friends looking slightly perturbed about her nonchalant response.

"It will only turn into a war, really," she explained, under her breath. "No sense in starting something that can only end up badly."

Neither looked convinced and Hermione felt just as flummoxed as they looked. She wasn't sure whether she would retaliate or not, that is even if she had the stones to. That evening she'd have to swallow her pride and speak with him. Malfoy may be an evil prat but perhaps he would listen to a truce.

* * *

Neville's excitement rose and fell as though he were on a Muggle Ferris wheel, the kind he managed to convince his grandmother to take him on when he was ten on an afternoon trip to London. He was the last person left in the library that evening, pouring over tomes under the feeble light of the lantern on the table.

His eyes ached and his hand began to cramp from writing so many notes, nevertheless he was finally making some progress in his research. Love potions, Neville found, were incredibly difficult to make, although not impossible.

He would need the assistance of Professor Sprout.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much to my betas (again!). You ladies make this so much easier :)  
To all of you who have reviewed! Thank you so much :) Especially to the comprehensive reviewers. You are the best of all cause you pinpoint my mistakes so I can learn from them.  
Cookies to: portmanroxsmysoxs, paradoxical, La Rose Noire, Kora and Crashcoogin  



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